Hate to Hate You
by vivamsmolly
Summary: If you ask him, she's rude, obnoxious, and generally unpleasant. If you ask her, he's smug, inconsiderate, and an absolute jerk. Sam and Mercedes don't like one another very much, to say the least, but will their relationship change when their headbutting forces them to examine their hatred?


_HI! I come bearing another Samcedes story for you all because I can't stay away from these two. I take prompt requests on tumblr and someone requested a one-shot in which the two absolutely hate each other and at the request of my readers, I'm turning it into a fic. You can find my other one-shots in "This, That, and a Few Other Things" and if you really like my writing, the in-progress fic "I am Sure I Imagined You" and the completed fic "Tied to the Tracks" are also mine._

**Important things:** I don't own Glee, never will.

**Author's Note: **This story will be a little AU and will feature other members of the New Directions crew (not all of them because there are characters I'm not wholly familiar with and don't want to ruin). There will be canon events appearing within the story as well as a host of things that you can't catch on FOX - decency standards and all that (trust me, there will be reasons for the M rating).

**Remember: **Reviews are always appreciated, feedback keeps these fingers tapping the keys for you enjoyment.

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Sam gripped his guitar tighter, attempting to remember if he knew how to play the song Quinn requested. He tapped the instrument lightly with his thumbs, trying to recreate the rhythm as his mind ran over the lyrics. He sat on a chair in the middle of the Fabray family room, surrounded by the group of teens who were slowly becoming his new best friends.

After transferring to McKinley at the tail end of the previous school year due to his mother's sudden desire to return to her Ohio roots, Sam hadn't thought he would find a group of friends so quickly. Initially, he groaned when his new schedule revealed that along with a French class, the only other elective he was able to worm into was the "New Directions" performance group the members succinctly dubbed "Glee." He was skeptical at first, having little desire to end his junior year as an outcast in the somewhat dorky group but he realized he was just as much of, if not more, of a dork than everyone else, quickly fitting into the already well-established dynamic. He was swift to sign up for the class when he chose his schedule for senior year, not caring to think twice about how it would look to other people, only hoping that it wouldn't affect his football practice schedule.

He was closet to his fellow football team members Mike, Finn, Artie, and Puck but that didn't stop him from establishing relationships with Kurt and Blaine as well, the couple becoming his self-proclaimed McKinley dad's when they found him wandering the halls his first day, hopelessly lost.

In addition to getting along with the guys, Sam had also found a friend in each of the girls of the group. He got to know Quinn over the summer where they dated for all of two weeks before he deemed her too much like his own sister and she, in return, deemed him too much like her brother to continue their relationship. He'd also had a quick fling with Santana that lasted for about a month into the school year while she mulled over her feelings for Brittany, dropping him once the two had their big talk. He didn't mind so much, happy to be single in October, having more time to focus on making the best of his senior year and getting to know everyone better including Tina, Lauren, Rachel, and even Brittany after he'd gotten over the initial irritation of his breakup with Santana.

Everyone seemed to rally around the new guy, happy to include him in anything they were doing including the impromptu Glee jam session currently happening on a Saturday afternoon. That is, everyone except for the short, brown-skinned girl currently glaring at him from her spot on the couch wedged between Puck, his head in her lap while he played idly with her fingers, and Kurt who was busy retelling an intense story on her other side.

Sam ignored the disgusted looks she gave him, choosing to focus on playing a proper version of the Jason Mraz ballad Quinn requested. "I think I've got the song down, Q." He beckoned the blond over excitedly, stealing her from where she stood chatting with Mike.

"I'm not entertaining this," Mercedes grumbled, rolling her eyes _yet again_ as Sam began to strum the opening chords of the song.

"You don't have to. You can feel free to leave," Sam mumbled, in a voice he thought was too low for anyone to hear as he focused on his guitar. He was wrong about the level of his tone and he knew it when he heard Mercedes' scoff and a soft, calming, "Sweetie," from Kurt.

"No, she can't," Kurt insisted, pushing a hand down on her knee to keep her on the couch. Puck hadn't budged from his current position so she wasn't going anywhere anyway. "She's my ride and we're not ready to go yet, right?" He looked to her for confirmation but only received a look of disagreement.

It didn't take her long for her to voice that disagreement. "Wrong. If I have to sit through another Bieber song I will poke out my damn eardrums," she asserted with a snide smirk in Sam's direction. Yeah, he was a fan of the Canadian artist and maybe he had already played three of his songs for the group that afternoon but the music was decent and his execution of it couldn't have been that bad. He noticed their friends joining in as he performed the songs, attempting to keep the mood light even as Finn and Rachel argued in the corner. Nevertheless, Mercedes hadn't given him one kind glance since they'd started; she also had yet to join in on any of the singing, which was highly unlike the woman whose mouth never seemed to close.

_And here we fucking go.  
_  
Sam didn't want to start an argument with her but her sour demeanor toward him made it too easy to do so. He relinquished his guitar, sitting it beside the stool he was perched upon as he approached the group on the couch, his eyes trained on Mercedes. "Is there someone that pays you to be mean?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest, "Is that how you afford all of those loud ass skirts you insist on wearing?"

Today's skirt was a hot pink number, complimented with an off the shoulder black top. Though Sam certainly appreciated the way the stretchy fabric clung to her body like a second skin, especially over the generous curves of her hips and ass, at the current moment he would rather wrap the damn thing around her neck than slowly peel it off of her as he nipped the skin of her thick thighs like he first wanted to when she sauntered into the room. Those kinds of thoughts only angered him more, forced him further into hating her because there was no way in hell he should be attracted to someone like her and yet, here he was, trying not to watch the gentle rise and fall of her breasts as she huffed at him, a fit of anger rising.

"Look here," she hissed through clenched teeth, her stare unwavering as she waved a finger at him. "I won't stand for too many more of your half-assed insults, okay? Please know that I have absolutely no qualms about kicking your pale ass into next week."

"Whoa, Mama!" Puck yelled, grinning widely and pulling their intertwined fingers to his chest as he stared up at Mercedes with bewildered amusement.

"Will that be before or after you step off your pedestal?" Sam returned, ignoring the sighs of frustration coming from their friends. If he and Mercedes didn't get into it at lunch, during Glee club, or during any rehearsals after school, they got into it whenever the group decided to get everyone together. He tried staying away from her but they would somehow always end up near each other, first exchanging heated glances and eventually lobbying various insults at one another. It never failed. They ruined more group gatherings than Sam cared to admit and they were certainly on the verge of ruining another.

"You don't know me," she spat, trying to rise off the couch, only to be held back by Puck wrapping his arms firmly around her middle.

"I don't have to know you to know that you're an awful person," he insisted, determined to win what was probably an unnecessary argument.

"Fuck you, Sam." He was taken aback by how easily the words rolled off her tongue but he couldn't deny that he'd wanted to say them as well.

He resiliently replied, "I'm sure I'm your type but not in a million fucking years, Jones, you'd have to be last woman on Earth."

She blew out a thick puff of air, still staring Sam down as she spoke to the olive-skinned guy hanging onto her. "Puck, will you please get off of me?"

"You're not leaving," he asserted, snuggling into her chest. "I'm not ready for you to go yet."

A small smile bent her pursed lips as she tore her eyes away from Sam to speak to Puck, stroking his mohawk and softening her voice as she did so, "I won't leave the house but I do need to leave the room for a moment before I forget what a _nice_ person I am." He nodded, reluctantly letting her up but following out of the room directly behind her.

"I am seriously starting to hate both of you," Kurt uttered, pushing out of his seat to follow Puck and Mercedes' trek toward the kitchen.

"So what number argument is this?" Santana asked, dropping back onto the floor where Brittany sat idly picking at the rug beneath them.

"I think this is number 86...2. Yeah, 862 sounds about right," Blaine supplied, no less annoyed than anyone else.

Sam could only shake his head, shifting under most of the eyes in the room still being on him, awaiting his next move. He wasn't sorry even though he started today's argument. _It was bound to happen anyway_. If anything, he was proud that he and Mercedes made it through a whole hour before attacking one another.

It didn't sit well with him that the room was silent, save for Artie patting his hands idly in his lap as he glanced around the room, probably searching for something to talk about to relieve the tension. Sam didn't have an issue with anyone else and he would surely end up apologizing to them all but for the life of him he couldn't seem to swallow his pride long enough to ignore Mercedes' rudeness. It bothered him that she could be sweet and kind to literally anyone else but when it came to him, she didn't have an amiable action or word to spare.

Quinn broke the silence, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder and looking at him contemplatively, "You really could be nicer to her," she commented. "Mercedes takes a little while to warm up to people sometimes but I promise it's worth it, she's a great person." She didn't wait for him to respond once she'd finished, choosing to head into the kitchen to join the Mercedes Jones pity party. Quinn was always quick to come to Mercedes' defense, a predictable act considering the bond the two girls shared during the pregnancy Quinn informed him about over the summer. He would have loved to get along with both girls, admiring the relationship the two had but figuring he'd never get that close to the diva.

"Why am I the one that has to be nicer?" Sam mused to no one in particular. "Maybe if she'd stop being such a b-"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Finn warned, grabbing Sam's shoulder. He and Rachel had stopped arguing the moment Sam rose from his seat choosing to focus on today's war of words. "Girls don't like it when you call them that and there are a lot of girls still left in this room," he whispered loudly, glancing to each of the idly chatting ladies.

Sam shook Finn off, knowing he didn't need the warning. He wasn't going to actually call Mercedes that, though the word did dance dangerously close to the tip of his tongue; he was raised better, southern born and trained properly in how to treat a woman, and anyone else, with respect. Though he had to admit, part of his rearing flew out the window when he found himself exchanging snarky remarks with Mercedes. She knew just how to get him going and he took the bait every time, even becoming guilty of baiting her from time to time as well. Maybe he enjoyed the slight reddening of her cheeks or her already large brown eyes, expanding to the width of saucers when he'd get in a particularly good jab. If he wasn't so busy trying to think of insults to lob out as quickly as she did, he would have realized that sometimes her intensity just fucking turned him on. Sam loved a good argument and a partner who could sustain one and Mercedes always seemed up for a fight. It didn't go unnoticed that the girl was beautiful and if he could observe her quick wit instead of trying to dodge it, he would admit that he respected her as well.

"I wasn't going to call her that," Sam finally assured Finn, resuming his spot on the stool. "I'm a better guy than that but I swear she just makes my fucking blood boil. She's do damn stubborn and negative I can't be around her for more than five seconds before she has something rude to say. Why is she always like that?"

"Beats me, you seem to be the only person in Glee club she doesn't get along with. Maybe you're the problem," Finn remarked nonchalantly, turning to his left to gain confirmation from Tina who gave a slight nod.

"What did I ever do to her? I haven't been here long enough to get on her bad side."

"Well, Sam, maybe you should be talking to Mercedes about this," Rachel offered sweetly, gesturing toward the kitchen.

"Who knows maybe you two can be friends," Lauren added with a twinge of optimism in her tone.

_No way in hell_

He wanted to rebuff the plan but he couldn't think of anything else to regain the former mirthful atmosphere. There was no way he and Mercedes would patch up their nonexistent relationship in an afternoon but perhaps, they could at least agree to be civil. He conceded, rising from his chair again to drag his suddenly heavy body to the kitchen, stopping just before he reached the threshold to pray for the strength to be nice and force what he hoped was a genuine looking smile onto his face.

The mood in the kitchen was much lighter with Quinn, Mercedes, and Kurt gabbing over the design of the dress Quinn wore while Puck listened to their conversation halfheartedly and repeatedly tried to move an all too eager hand down to Mercedes rear as he rubbed her back in small circles. For a fleeting moment, Sam wondered what she felt like, knowing that he'd probably never find out, even if they could agree to be cordial to one another. He cleared his throat to alert the engaged group to his presence, each of them turning to regard him warmly, expect for Mercedes whose smile dipped back into the frown he was accustomed to seeing.

"Hey, man, what's up?" Puck asked, drawing Mercedes closer to his side. He would swear the two were an item by the way Puck always seemed to be touching her but Sam had seen her playfully spurn many of his advances with his own eyes though that didn't deter the "badass" from hanging onto her whenever she allowed him to. Sam knew he could never have that kind of relationship with her, imagining that if he ever touched Mercedes he'd probably lose a hand.

"Would you guys mind if I spoke with Mercedes alone?" he asked hopefully.

"I don't have anything to say to you," Mercedes declared, not a second after his request.

He gritted his teeth, fighting to keep the smile he wore that probably looked more deranged as he fought off a grimace. "I am asking as nicely as I can, Mercedes. Please, I just want two minutes of your time."

"Fine," she agreed, adding a murmured, "fish lips," once their friends started to retreat, glancing worriedly at the two before heading back to the living room.

He braced himself against the island counter separating them, waiting until everyone left to return the insult he surely heard. "You know you have quite the big pair yourself."

"If this is all you wanted then I'm not staying here for this." She began to make her way toward him, trying to bypass him to get to the doorway.

"Wait," he insisted, stepping in front of her. He'd never really been this close to her before and he realized just how short she was and better yet, how good she smelled. He wanted to bury his nose in the curve of her neck and spend a weekend there, absorbing the scent of her. _What the fuck?_ A shudder ran through his body as he chased that thought from his mind, taking a step back from her as she did the same.

"I'm not apologizing because I didn't do anything wrong," he stated, regaining his train of thought. "You've been sitting there giving me dirty looks the whole time I've been playing and you've been in this crappy mood towards me, _and only me_, since you got here. I don't know what's always wrong with you but frankly, I'm fucking sick of this attitude of yours."

She scoffed so strongly he was sure she dislodged something in her throat. "What's always wrong with _me_? Why do you assume that there's something wrong with me? Last I checked, you were the new one upsetting the balance. I get along with _everyone _in Glee, Sam," she contended, crossing her arms at the apparent fact.

"So do I. The entire club is nice to me but you," he shot back, his tone louder than he liked. Normally, he would have lowered it in an attempt try and make some progress but the sound of her yelling had him screaming right back with just as much exasperation.

"_I tried_. You didn't seem too interested in anything I had to offer."

"And when exactly did you even try?" he derided, unable to remember a single time Mercedes had done anything nice for him.

"You don't remember the back to school bash at my house? Quinn told me to invite you and I did but I _distinctly _remember you not being able to come because you were buried between Santana's legs for the afternoon and too wiped out after to even show your face."

He was silent for a moment, remembering the day and suddenly regretting the lie his former girlfriend agreed to tell for him. The truth was, he had spent part of his summer attending tutoring sessions at the local learning center, attempting to prepare for the senior level classes he knew wouldn't be easy with his dyslexia always rearing its head. Though he was beginning to trust his Glee mates, so far only Mike, Santana, and Quinn were aware of his situation and he wanted to keep it that way. He especially had no interest in telling Mercedes for fear it would give her far too much ammunition and the upper hand in their verbal battles. He had wanted to attend the party, especially if it would give him an opportunity to spend a little time with the only Glee girl who was extremely difficult to get alone but he had no idea his absence had hurt her that much though it still felt like a stupid grudge to hold onto almost two months later.

"You're mad at me because I didn't come to a party?" he asked, visibly bothered by her admission.

She exhaled, stating a firm, "No," before continuing. "I was only mad at you for like two weeks after that. The initial anger pretty much subsided the next day, though I was still irritated with you for the next thirteen. You couldn't even apologize for missing out even after you promised you would be there. I had a gift for you, something to welcome you into the club after I found out you were staying on for senior year. I didn't even know you but everyone was so glad to have you that I figured you had to be a good guy. How wrong was I?" she chuckled drying, not need an answer before continuing. "And to top it all off, in school, you pretended like it never even happened, never addressed it - _never addressed me_, unless it was to start kicking the back of my damn chair because you always seem to find a spot _directly_ behind me. Everything about you just started to piss me off and it still does."

"I don't do that," he replied quietly only in reference to the chair kicking. He wasn't sure if the sudden pang in his gut was guilt or the after effects of his workout this morning. All he knew was that he couldn't even come to his own defense, knowing he probably did a few things to tick Mercedes off during those first two weeks of school. There was no malicious intent on his part, but when she started passing him hateful stares in the hallway or making snide remarks under her breath, that's when he'd decided he didn't like the girl and that feeling continued unchecked for the first few months of the school year.

"Is that the only part you heard?" she asked, tossing her head from side to side in disbelief.

"No." Still, he was short on words, unable to apologize or rectify the situation. There were things that she had done to piss him off as well and he knew he wasn't the only one of them being a bit a stubborn ass but after her confession, he wasn't ready to lay down one of his own. The air was too thick between them and she still hadn't diverted the intense gaze he began to shrink beneath.

She waited a while before speaking again, realizing he didn't have any remarks to contribute to the conversation. "I really don't have anything else to say to you, Sam. I'm only staying because I promised Kurt I would take him home so his dad can stop asking where I've been. But you don't have to address me at all and I won't address you."

He nodded, unsure of what else to do. "As you wish."

Sam kept his end of the agreement but he found himself still bothered by Mercedes' lack of participation in the group sing-alongs. He was about to give up when Artie whispered a song choice into his ear that was bound to get everyone, at least the girls, in motion. Sam shrugged taking a chance as he began playing, smirking when Mercedes immediately recognized the tune, bobbing her head and mouthing the lyrics as Santana sang and shimmied the first few lines. She did her best Whitney Houston impersonation that ceased when she pulled Mercedes up from the couch and then handed the song off while they continued to dance around the space. "I'm Every Woman" seemed to be a popular choice as the rest of the girls and even Mike, Puck, and Kurt joined the performance when the chorus came around.

In Sam's mind, this should have always been the scene when the group got together. He mulled over some of his previous choices as he watched his friends, reasoning with himself that if maybe he wasn't so impulsive when it came to starting fights with Mercedes, the two would get along better. If he was really careful, maybe he would even be treated to the tempting display of her swerving backside on several more occasions.

_The least I can do is try._

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**Let me know how I did and if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to send a message :)**_  
_

**-Molly **


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